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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25469986">Carnival of Carnage</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lxck/pseuds/Lxck'>Lxck</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Blood and Gore, Blood and Torture, Blood and Violence, Broken Bones, Dark, Dark Ending, Dark Richie Tozier, Dark fic to end all Dark Fic, Darkest Endings of all Endings, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Imagine the worst possible ending, Literally all the losers die, M/M, Multi, Pennywise wins, Possessed!Richie, Rape/Non-con Elements, Richie!Wise, There is NOTHING nice in this story, Violence, and then multiply it by ten, suffocation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:27:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,490</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25469986</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lxck/pseuds/Lxck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mike sometimes thought Richie was the weakest. The deadlights think the same. Possessing one of the losers and tearing them apart from the inside out is the only way to win.</p><p>Wholly and Unabashedly Dedicated to Cass.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Pennywise/Richie Tozier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Carnival of Carnage</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Please. Heed. The. Warnings. This is not a happy story. It's literally just dark and awful and SAD. Turn away, look away, this is not for the faint of heart.</p><p>This Fic is for the remarkably talented Cass and inspired by all of her deliciously dark art.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h4>
  <b>"Carnival of Carnage"</b>
</h4><p>
  <span>"Stay the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> back," Richie hissed, hands poised to lash out as he drew himself up to full height. The vain attempts of intimidation were pitiful, though, as the eldritch horror lumbered towards him with that jittering walk. Mocking him with each step, the beings' smile only grew more knowing, </span>
  <em>
    <span>more cruel</span>
  </em>
  <span>, as it came closer. Still, Richie held his ground, only because he was now backed into the corner of his very own hotel room. Ben, sweet Ben, had come to help, come to do his best to convince him to stay but Pennywise was ready.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That sick fuck was always ready.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben was limp and out of sight on the other side of the bed, the base of his boots just visible as Richie cowered himself against the corner between the wall and the antique dresser. Pennywise crept forward still, eyes a menacing yellow, teeth sharp in a full wicked grin. It could kill him right here. And kill Ben, and then Bev. Then what chance would Mike's meaningless ritual have? It could be finished and done right here if there wasn't a more pressing matter. This form, this alien, this glamouring beast had become essentially ineffective. And as brazen as it might be, the chances of failure to these petulant blips in time was more possible than It cared to admit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It needed a new form. A new host.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill might have been best for this task if It cared about being poetic. But It didn't. Bill was too strong in his ignorance, blindly foolish one could say. Richie was the weakest. The easiest to turn, the easiest to convince with his multitude of insecurities already straining the fragile friendships he had made in his youth. Even now, Richie had been prepared to run with his tail tucked between his legs and leave his </span>
  <em>
    <span>friends</span>
  </em>
  <span> for dead. His fear was palpable, the sharp saltiness of such raw emotion making It's mouth water, and yet It sustained the hunger as It stopped. Gangly arms clad in a dusted grey clown suit hung limp at Its sides, eyes now a deceptively pastel blue as it watched Richie. Just standing there. Watching, </span>
  <em>
    <span>seeing</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie for what he really was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck, it made his skin crawl, and Richie closed his eyes, prepared to either lose his life or will away the mirage-like it wasn't there. The trick hadn't worked earlier, he doubted it would now, but regardless he tensed and whispered </span>
  <em>
    <span>it's not real, it's not real, it's not real, </span>
  </em>
  <span>again and again. After what felt like centuries, the blood roaring so quick in his ears they were ringing in the resounding silence of the room, Richie slowly opened his eyes. The room was empty. Like it was never there, like Richie was just going fucking insane in this house of horrors, this town of terror. Even Ben's unconscious body was gone like he had never come in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, Richie felt the tension leave his legs and shoulders enough to detach himself from where he was pressed so firmly into the corner of the room. His back hurt from the position he had cowered in, a product of age and not being so spindly anymore. It felt like his head was full of cotton, adrenaline coursing his veins after the trigger flight or fight response. He needed a fucking drink. He needed a fucking cigarette. He needed to calm the fuck down and get the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> out of this place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moving with more direction now, more urgency, Richie started for the door, having it in his mind that he'd take a few bottles from the bar downstairs and promptly drink those on his drive out to Bangor airport. He didn't get the chance, though, because the door swung inward and Eddie pressed inside, doe-eyes wide and frightened. "Shit. Shit, </span>
  <em>
    <span>shitshitshitshit</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I can't do it, Richie. I can't do this, man, it's- I can't, I want to go home."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Eds! Hey, hey, Eds, come on." Any previous plan of running was immediately halted- not thrown away, just temporarily suspended- as Richie placed his hands on Eddie's shoulders, shaking him lightly. "What happened? What did you see?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie should have known something was wrong when Eddie didn't snap at him for calling him Eds. But then Eddie stepped forward and completely into Richie's embrace, and he was foolish; he was blind and ignorant because Eddie was here and in his arms, shaking, shivering under his hands. It was a struggle to breathe, even as his arms slid so naturally around Eddie's frame, holding him against his chest like that could protect him from the world. Eddie was here. Eddie was </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and scared and Richie couldn't let him stay here alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Eddie had to conjure up a story about what terrified him so, Richie was pulling back to look in his eyes. The second hint should have been the lighter shade of brown his eyes were, but again Richie wanted so badly to believe this dream, he waved it off as the sun reflecting in Eddie's eyes. "Run away with me. Right fucking now, let's leave this fucking place, Eddie, and never look back."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Richie, we can't," Eddie whispered, hands pressed flat against Richie's chest, sliding up to graze a thumb against his throat. "We can't just abandon-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> them, Eddie, they want to die, they can fucking die, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span> need to get out of here. Like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>yesterday</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was then Richie Tozier was selected for a mission beyond the immediate. The salty delectation of fear had caramelized into something sickly saccharine, but It continued with the facade, learning every little detail. With a little persuasion, a little whisper, Richie would turn. He was already most of the way there, he only needed a little incentive. Richie hadn't stopped talking the entire time It had concluded the future use of the man at hand, so, still under the guise of Eddie Kaspbrak, It leaned in close and kissed Richie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beneath the glasses, Richie's eyes grew wide in his surprise yet it only took another moment before he was gathering what he thought was Eddie closer to him, the kiss deepening. With a hand at the back of Eddie's neck, Richie drew his tongue against exposed teeth, the action leaving scratches on his tongue from sharpened teeth. A pained noise as Richie moved to pull away, stopped by a deceptively strong grip in Richie's shirt and Eddie sucking the blood from his tongue with earnest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shit. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Richie shouldn't have found that hot, the cutting pain pairing so nicely with the high he got from having his lips against Eddie's. Eddie, </span>
  <em>
    <span>It was Eddie, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Richie could be stabbed in the chest and left to die, and still the degradation inside of him would find it </span>
  <em>
    <span>sexy</span>
  </em>
  <span> because it was Eddie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie didn't wait, hands grabbing at Richie's shirt and </span>
  <em>
    <span>tearing</span>
  </em>
  <span> it open like a beast's claws through a prey's flesh, those incubusitic teeth leaving bleeding marks of arousal along Richie's skin. Shit, Richie was barely hanging on to his sanity. This wasn't at all how he had pictured Eddie, </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> sweet little Eddie treating their first time. Violent and desperate in his want, Richie cupped the back of Eddie's head to try and stop him, to turn his head back up to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yellow eyes looked back at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a surprised shout, Richie pulled back too quick for his oblong body to compensate for and he went crashing down on the bed behind him. Eddie was up and after him with an unnatural quickness, crouched over Richie's form, something so primal and animalistic in his stance that Richie was distracted from the revelation he had only just had. This wasn’t good, this wasn’t right, but there was something so enticing to this </span>
  <em>
    <span>perverse </span>
  </em>
  <span>version of the love of his life that Richie had half a mind to go along with it. He didn’t have time to argue with himself before Eddie’s unnaturally sharp teeth were scratching at his throat, half a point of pressure away from cutting it wide open. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it hurt, it was terrifying, it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking thrilling</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and Richie arched up off the bed, bucking wildly against his smaller assailant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Large hands found small hips, Richie turning them in a vain attempt at control of the situation, and instead of using it to get up and </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop</span>
  </em>
  <span> whatever the fuck he was, he chased those biting lips. The savagery was contagious, only intensifying the more they tangled together. Fingertips dug into skin, nails left pleasant burns wherever they dragged. Richie was working Eddie out of his pants, overcome with this </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span>, this desire he had kept buried for twenty-seven fucking years. Ever since he knew what fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he knew he wanted Eddie. A hungry growl rumbled between them as Richie tossed the pants aside, pressing back into a gnashing kiss that left lips swollen and tasting of iron.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie’s arms looped around Richie’s shoulders, pulling him down with strength Richie didn’t expect but didn’t mind. Once out of Richie’s line of sight, deep brown eyes turned amber as his lips grazed the shell of his bedmate's ear. “I’m ready for you, Richie…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie felt his stomach drop, heat coiling in the depths of his chest at those dirty little words that left Eddie's mouth. His breath left him in a hated huff and soon Richie was pulling back to get his throbbing cock out of his all too constricting jeans. Licking his lips, he looked between them, drinking in the sight of Eddie beneath him, how he looked like every dirty fantasy Richie ever had all rolled into one. His knees shifted on the bed, pressing forward, pushing Eddie's legs apart so he could drag the head of his dick along the cleft of his ass. He was slick, sloppily so, just like Richie always imagined they'd be. Eddie was so goddamn small, he'd need a lot of lube to keep him loose enough for Richie's dick. Before Richie could even manage a strangled 'Ready?', legs wrapped around Richie's waist and heels dug into his ass, forcing him forward and sliding right into the tight heat of Eddie's hole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A groan filled the room as Richie braced his hands on either side of Eddie's head, the sensation of sliding into him almost effortlessly, the way Eddie took him in so hungrily it was downright sinful. His glasses sank down the bridge of his nose, but Richie didn't look away, wanting to see Eddie's face as he bottomed out inside of him. Pressed as deep as he possibly could, thrusting to find that sweet spot that would have Eddie falling apart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of Eddie's ecstasy echoed through the bedroom, punctuated by the sounds of their skin slapping together as Richie started to move. Pumping out in a slow roll but then fucking right back into him with a force that sent the bed forward. Beneath him, Eddie's hands wound into his own hair, curling there as his head tipped back and his eyes closed. Fuck, Eddie looked like every porn start Richie had ever watched, like this buttoned-up anxiety-riddled mess was secretly the raunchiest person in the whole group.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of this should have been a warning. But Richie was lost in the wild hope that maybe he had something real, that maybe he wasn't alone in these filthy little thoughts. The fact this unknowingly glimmered mirage of Eddie was tailored to all of Richie's interests never struck Richie as out of the ordinary. Eddie was what he wanted. His habits, though repressed and secret, they always reflected some version of Eddie. It was a vicious irony that Richie had perfectly constructed this moment long before It had taken hold of this particular vision.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Eddie opened his eyes again, though, they were yellow, the moans becoming more and more real as Richie continued to fuck him in an animalistic frenzy. Richie's eyes were between them again, though. Watching the way he slid in and out of Eddie in a steady rhythm. He was close. He was almost there. "Eddie-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The yellow eyes were back, and this time there was no mistaking them. Richie pulled in a hard cry, trying to pull away, trying to get himself out of something there really was no going back from. It surged up, hands brushing on Richie's arms as they rolled once more, It firmly seated in Richie's lap with his dick still inside. Struggling, Richie tried to get It off of him, this fake and perverse-</span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect</span>
  </em>
  <span>- Eddie, but one hand moved to the center of Richie's chest and pushed him flat against the bed with barely any effort.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Be a good boy," It trilled in a haunting combination of Eddie's voice and a dissonant Pennywise. "And fill me to the brim, Richie."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"N-no, fuck, no! Get </span>
  <em>
    <span>off</span>
  </em>
  <span>." Richie tried to buck this thing off of him, but the heat around Richie's cock somehow grew tighter as It rode him with almost unnatural rolls of Its hips. Forcing him to the edge he was already on, holding him by the throat to pull him over against his will. Richie's head fell back, a strangled moan of a lilting plea to </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop</span>
  </em>
  <span> left his lip, but he came. Buried deep inside this </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> that looked like Eddie and fucked just as good as Richie had imagined. Shit, he felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>sick</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Hitting that high with this almost Eddie, an Eddie with glowing yellow eyes and a pointed smile. Laying back on the bed. Richie was overcome with a sudden wave of paralyzing realizations. The weight on him was definitely not Eddie’s, every sharp, bleeding bite was beginning to sting like a festering wound, it was hard to think. He stared at the ceiling, part of him wondering if he had died, another part wondering if any of this was real or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lifting his head, forcing himself to look at this imposter, this fucking beast in a lambs’ clothes, Eddie was gone. Now Richie jumped, hands flat on the bed as he raised himself to look around the suddenly empty room. Had it been real? Was he sleeping? Was he dead? Richie was struggling with reality, and all the while, his soft dick was hanging limply out of his jeans. Was it… All some fucked up vivid daydream he was having? Was he thinking about jacking off to those unbelievably brown eyes but for some fucked up, sick and twisted reason his mind decided to throw the fucking clown into the mix?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Roughly shoving himself back into his jeans, Richie was up and sprinting to gather the little items he had, throwing the duffle bag over his shoulder. He had to get the fuck out of here. Fuck the drinks, fuck whatever weird fucking vision he might have just had, but he had to go and stay gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t that simple, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Following an unprecedented pause at the Derry town synagog, Richie sat in the pews of the holy house, staring into the empty aisle. At the empty podium where Stan had once stood. Stan didn’t even have a chance to make it to Derry, have a chance to face off against the son of a bitch who made all of their lives a living </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Richie had a chance. He was here and breathing and they had a chance now to end this fucking thing but he was running. Why was he running? From the </span>
  <em>
    <span>truth</span>
  </em>
  <span>? From a part of himself that had kindled and roared to a burning desire and then fizzled to cold ash the moment he crossed the city limits. Pennywise had taken more than their youth, It had taken Richie’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>life. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The love of his life. Any chance at a happily ever after pushed back by twenty-seven</span>
  <span> fucking years all for what? For Richie to run and forget everything again? To have more half-assed relationships that ended with nothing more than a two-week bender and a stint in rehab or jail if it all got way out of hand? Is that what he was running to? Was that life any better than dying?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What happened if he stayed? Maybe, just maybe, he had a chance with… Richie closed his eyes and shook his head as if to shun that thought from his head immediately. No, no he couldn’t hope for something like that. Eyes still closed, he saw Eddie on top of him again and his chest seized with the mental image. Heat jumping through his veins and rushing south before he pulled in a hard gasp and opened his eyes again. No. No, that hadn’t been real. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It wasn’t real</span>
  </em>
  <span>, there was no way he had put his dick in some fucked up clown-esque version of Eddie. He couldn’t have been that </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could, however, have been that desperate…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaning forward with his elbows on the back of the pew in front of him, Richie hid his face in his hands. Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. He had only been back in this hellhole for twenty-four goddamn hours and he was so deep in love with the asshole he could barely breathe. He couldn’t function thinking about it, thinking about Eddie and the way he hovered around him. How they held hands- or, arm-wrestled technically, but Richie took what he could- how Eddie agreed with him on everything. They should get out of town; Eddie agreed. They shouldn’t split up; Eddie agreed. Would Eddie agree with running away like a fucking coward after the group, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>losers</span>
  </em>
  <span> decided to stay and fight?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Probably not. Eddie was brave. Eddie was the fiercest son of a bitch Richie had ever met. For all his anxious prattling about the what-ifs and the have yous, Eddie was still there with them. He still trudged through gray water, he still patched Haystack up, he still stayed in town after a fortune cookie sprouted a goddamn batwing and flew at him. Another long sigh and Richie stood as he rubbed his eyes, glasses pushed up onto his forehead. He had to go back. Maybe sneak back into the fucking Derry House so no one noticed he was gone. A self-deprecating scoff and Richie wondered, briefly, if any of them had noticed he was even missing. Did anyone notice he was gone? He had told Ben he wanted to be alone for a bit, but didn’t people who say that usually mean please never leave me alone? Whatever. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Whatever</span>
  </em>
  <span>, maybe he’d just swing back by the Derry house. Maybe he’d meet Mike at the library instead because he was supposed to do that anyway. That way he could at least play off the reason he left was to be early to the meeting, not because he was a chicken shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie walked back to his car with his hands slipped into the pockets of his jacket again, watching as the sun sank lower and lower to the horizon. Nighttime never bothered him, it was harder for people to see him at night. Plus, most people out walking the streets of LA after dark were all so fucking shit faced, they were more concerned with walking the right way than anyone around them. But watching the sun set in Derry was like Richie watching the last light of hope burn out. It’s not like It couldn’t attack them during the day, in fact, It usually did. But there was something ominous about this night. Something that crawled under his skin and chilled him to the bone. Something was wrong, something much deeper than the infested sewers of the town. A shiver ran down Richie’s spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Save Eddie</em>
  </b>
  <b>.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>...What? That knocked him out of any daze he might have been in watching the last rays of day settle beyond the treeline. Richie looked over his shoulder as if he could physically see the voice that had murmured in his ear. Was it even in his ear? There was no one around him, but Richie felt something similar to the presence of It. Only this instinct wasn’t pointed outward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like there was something </span>
  <em>
    <span>in him</span>
  </em>
  <span> that was recognizing the presence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, no, no, no. Richie shook his head again, forcing his foot off the curb to step into the street and cross to his car. No, that was this fucking town getting to him, that fucking nightmare he had had earlier was only coming back to haunt him, it wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span>. There was nothing </span>
  <em>
    <span>in</span>
  </em>
  <span> him. That was impossible, this wasn’t fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>Alien</span>
  </em>
  <span> or some shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>You can save Eddie.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>He stopped dead in the middle of the empty street, eyes trained ahead and staring at nothing. That… That had </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>come from his own head this time. Doing his level best to keep himself from shaking, Richie tried to fumble around in his head, to recognize the voice that was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>his and figure out why the fuck it was in his head. His main concern should be the voice, and it was, but when he managed to form a coherent enough thought to pose a question, what he managed was </span>
  <em>
    <span>What do you mean </span>
  </em>
  <span>save</span>
  <em>
    <span> Eddie?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence rang in his ears now, and Richie turned in a full circle as he started to feel his chest constricting. He couldn’t get enough air in, he couldn’t steady his fucking breathing. Yeah, they all knew this was a shit show going in, but they thought as long as they did it together, then nothing </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span> could happen to them. Panicked, Richie turned in a circle again, the words leaving him in an alarmed shout, searching for an answer he wasn’t sure he was going to get. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What the fuck do you mean save Eddie!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The next thing he felt was white-hot pain in his head, blinding him momentarily as he crumpled to the asphalt, hands balled into tight fists and pressed against his temples as if that would stop his head from exploding all over the fucking pavement. He couldn’t see anything but white for what felt like minutes, hours, his whole body burning and expanding out of his own damn skin. What the fuck was happening to him? Was this how he fucking dies? Just before Richie is certain he can’t handle it anymore, just as his knees hit the pavement and he lowers his head to the coarse urban rock, it stops. He stays there, balled up on the street with his hands over the back of his neck like he was performing some grade school safety drill, whimpering like he was so sure this was the afterlife if he was fortunate to have one of those. And even if he was fortunate to have a life beyond the shitty one he had prior, he was certain it was going to be spent in misery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Panting, Richie slowly removed shaking hands from their place at his neck and he dared to lift his head. This time another force hit him, but it didn’t hurt so much as filled him with a strength he had never experienced before. A </span>
  <em>
    <span>power</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He saw everything. The next twelve hours, in quick succession like someone ran it at fifty times speed. But he kept up with it. He understood it. They go to the cavern… and Eddie dies. Everyone else walks away with nothing but surface wounds and emotional scars, but Eddie…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They just fucking leave him there</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Anger rushes through Richie’s body now, warming his limbs as he strides back to his car. If he took a moment to ever look at himself in the mirror, he would have seen some monster staring back at him. The body was still the same, Richie was still </span>
  <em>
    <span>somewhere</span>
  </em>
  <span> inside. But his eyes were yellow now, his expression one of brooding and danger as he slipped into the driver seat of the car. Eerily calm, despite the roiling turmoil just beneath the surface, Richie starts the car and drives back towards the Derry House. Not the library, where he knows he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to save Mike.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike… Mikey, Homeschool Mike. The lying </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He would lead them down to the cavern and for what? A ritual that wouldn’t even fucking work? All these fucking tokens, all these little personal adventures and self discoveries and for </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> what? Eddie still dies. The only thing Richie wanted to see at the end of all of this and he wouldn’t be able to… not if they all went down there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s fingers curl and uncurl against the steering wheel, thinking, laying out his options. He could alter everything now, just pick the fucking losers off one by one or he could wait… Bill would still go to the house on Neibolt, he’d go on his own and would inevitably be killed before he even made it down the well. Mulling his options over, Richie glances at the library. He wouldn’t have to take Mike or Bill down, that would leave Bev and Ben to him. It would be easier to handle two rather than four. Nodding to himself, he made his decision and tore down the street towards the Derry House. If he was fast enough, he could stop others from leaving for the library. Maybe corner them in their room so it would be easier to get them alone. If he took care of Ben first--.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wait</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Richie shook his head like he was trying to dispel a bad dream. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wait</span>
  </em>
  <span>, what the fuck was he on about ‘taking care’ of Ben? What part of him was even thinking that? Coming to a stop at a light, Richie felt that same feeling of panic rise in his chest, his heart hammering heavily and sporadically against his ribcage. Where did </span>
  <em>
    <span>any</span>
  </em>
  <span> of those thoughts come from? He couldn’t just fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill</span>
  </em>
  <span> these people. These were his friends. He was going back to </span>
  <em>
    <span>help</span>
  </em>
  <span> his friends.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another disjointed flash, an image of Eddie hovering over Richie, being held up by a clawed tentacle. Impaled, bleeding, </span>
  <em>
    <span>calling for Richie</span>
  </em>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like the rush of high tide, the need for blood returned and Richie’s eyes shifted from blue to yellow again. How could they be his friends? They would let Eddie die. They would leave his body there to be buried and never </span>
  <em>
    <span>seen</span>
  </em>
  <span> again. They don’t understand. None of them fucking understand, Eddie isn’t just a </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Eddie is his whole fucking life, he can’t let anything happen to him. Richie was frantic, and it was in those moments of pure desperation, pure groveling to whatever higher being was listening to </span>
  <em>
    <span>spare</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eddie that the deadlights could take control.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The deadlights were listening. They were always listening as they swirled, unseen, over Richie’s head. Vying for complete control every time Richie’s already shaky resolve floundered just a bit more. He was nearly there, he only needed one more push.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bowers. They had possessed Bowers earlier that day and he had managed to do one good thing in </span>
  <em>
    <span>stabbing</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eddie. Pulling the image from Bowers’ memory, the deadlights showed it to Richie. Showed Eddie turning around with a knife in his cheek, soft brown eyes crazed and manic. </span>
  <b>
    <em>Eddie’s in trouble</em>
  </b>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t recent, but Richie didn’t need to know that. Richie wasn’t looking deep into the flash he got, he didn’t notice the reflection in the mirror was Bowers or even that the sun was out. All he saw, all Richie ever saw, was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eddie, </span>
  </em>
  <span>his Eddie. Hurt. In pain. In danger. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Needing him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. As expected, that was the last push Richie needed before he surrendered completely. The weak voice of reason supplicating to the deadlights to just save Eddie. Save him and he’d do anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Kill them, Richie</em>
  </b>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He drove right past the library, knowing full well Bowers would be in there with a knife a breath away from Mike’s throat soon. Richie was supposed to step in and save him, but Eddie was in trouble. Fuck everyone else, Eddie needed him. He’d kill anyone who fucking stood in his way, he’d kill anyone who would rather </span>
  <em>
    <span>leave </span>
  </em>
  <span>Eddie for dead. Everyone was so fucking quick to turn on poor little Eds, maybe this voice was right. Maybe Richie should just fucking kill them. Fuck them. Fuck what they’d do to him and Eddie. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. Them.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>
    <em>Kill them all.</em>
  </b>
  <span>” Richie agreed, voice dropping a register and interlaced with a second voice that was grimly comforting, as he eased his car to a stop outside of the Derry house. Long fingers drummed against the wheel of his car, eyes shining in the early twilight of the night. The only sound was the sound of Richie’s breathing, remarkably calm for the massacre he was imagining as he watched the shadows of the losers pass in front of lighted windows. Bev was in the bar again, faithful Ben was there with her. Always there. Lovestruck, pitiful, pathetic Ben. He would be the hardest. Richie had to be careful with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kicking open the car door, he stood, yellow irises glimmering to a lurid blue. Richie’s color but not his eyes if anyone was assed to care. He doubted anyone would be, the only one who really cared about him was Eddie. Always Eddie. Lifting his eyes to the second floor of the local inn, Richie’s eyes lost their glow, like a part of him was reconnecting with himself, fighting to get back to the surface because of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eddie</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A growl rumbled in the back of Richie’s mind, the tendrils of whatever had a hold of him sinking its isolating claws deeper as yet another image of Eddie getting stabbed, getting impaled, blood pouring from his mouth as he looked so scared, so helpless. The growl soon became his own as he stalked towards the wooden doors, grasping the handle and yanking it open with enough force it slammed against the alcove wall. There went any chance for a fucking surprise attack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his near-blind rage, Richie didn’t expect to see Eddie standing at the foot of the stairs, bandage taped to the side of his face, and his eyes wide as a fresh-caught deer. Stumbling to a stop, Richie felt his breath leave him at just the sight of him. Alive, standing, in a tight little shirt and arms folded across his chest while Ben and Bev talked quietly in the bar to the left of the foyer. Eddie turned, brows raising and arms dropping as he saw Richie, at first relieved before he got a good look at him. “Jesus, Rich, what the fuck happened to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine.” Richie managed to ground out, shaking his head as he stepped further into the lobby of the little inn. His hands were in his pockets again, shoulders hunched forward as he tried to peer into the bar, to watch Bev pour herself her fifth or sixth drink that night. Still wouldn’t be enough to help her nerves, Richie decided, she’d still put up a nasty fucking fight if Richie went in too quick. “Hey, Eds-,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t fucking call me that.” Eddie cut him off, stepping closer and forcing Richie to snap his head around and look at him with a furrowed brow. Before Richie could get out a question of what the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> was Eddie doing, Eddie pulled the collar of Richie’s shirt to the side to reveal a nasty bite. The blood had long dried, and the skin around it was dark purple from the force of the creature that did that shit to him. Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it had been real. “Holy, Fuck, it looks infected! Did you fucking wash that? Stay here, dude, I have stuff in my room, okay? Fucking Christ, Richie, what the hell happened to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie slapped a hand over the bite mark, looking away just as his eyes shuttered yellow again. It was real. All of this was fucking real, and a part of Richie, the part that still wanted so desperately to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> was trapped way deep down as the little resolve he had shattered. He fucked the goddamn clown. Because it looked like Eddie. It bit him, and then it fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>trapped</span>
  </em>
  <span> him here in his own body to watch the horror show unfold. Stepping forward, he followed Eddie up the stairs, thankful he didn’t look back and see the monster Richie was becoming. His eyes lowered again, settling on the jagged coat rack that was sprawled across the lower platform of the steps. That would work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook a hand loose to lean forward and pick the metal rod up. It had a bit of weight. A good swing would knock anyone out cold, and a few good hits would bludgeon even the thickest fucking skull. Freeing his second hand, Richie rubbed his jaw before he held the rack with both hands. Then his eyes slid to the side as he turned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beverly Marsh and Benjamin Hanscom. A match made in fucking heaven, they would have had their happily ever after, too. Would have shoved it all in Richie’s face. How they’d get married, be happy, have a happy fucking domestic life while Richie… What? Visited Eddie’s empty fucking grave? Would any of them even visit Eddie? Did any of them even </span>
  <em>
    <span>care</span>
  </em>
  <span> that they left him down there?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie exhaled sharply through his nose, rumbling a growl as he turned towards the bar with the rack heavy in his hand. They wouldn’t get the fucking chance to disrespect Eddie like that. Neither of them were going to make it out of this goddamn house alive. For once, Richie was thankful for the seemingly absent house. No one fucking worked here, no one else stayed here, honestly, Richie was already pretty sure this whole house wasn’t even here, just another fucking delusion good ol’ Pennywise had put them in. A shared fever dream, this quaint little cottage in the heart of Maine. It made for an easy fucking kill house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have to go meet Mike, this thing is almost over, okay? We just gotta go-- Richie?” Ben turned, brows immediately knit together in worry. Always looking out for someone else, always fucking caring unless someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> needed him, then suddenly he couldn’t help. “Rich, what are you doing? Hey, hey man, What’s wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ben believed the best in people. Too fucking nice for his own good, too fucking trusting. He let Richie get too close. Richie’s hands shifted on the iron rack, clasped together on one end before he swung it around in an easy swing, knocking Ben right across the face. The spoke gouged his face, blood spraying as his perfectly shaped head whipped around and his athletically molded body crumpled to the ground. Bev screamed, drawing further back from the scene, pressing herself against the bar to make herself as small as she could. She knew from the start that something was off, she knew Richie wasn’t right, she knew trouble had found them first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you see this in your little fucking nightmares, Bevvie?” Richie sneered, voice again laced with that sharp Pennywise trill. He stood over Ben now, the rack still in his hands as he lifted them above his head and used both force and gravity to beat it down against Ben’s already pliant body. “Huh? Did you fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>see this</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie! Stop it!” She shrieked, just as Richie delivered another blow to Ben’s skull, this time hearing it crack and supple skin splintered open with freshly broken bone, spilling blood and shattered brain onto the floor. Crazed yellow eyes turned on Bev, Richie’s lips pulled back to reveal a pointed tooth grin as he stepped away from Ben’s body and towards her. Always the fighter, Bev grabbed the first bottle she could, throwing it full force at Richie, who narrowly avoided it as he ducked his head. The next bottle she grabbed connected though, hard glass breaking open and spilling vodka all over Richie’s neck and chest. “Stay the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> away from me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every bite the Mirage Eddie had left on him burned, stinging in such a cloying way that Richie only laughed as he hunched forward. When Beverly thought it was safe, she skirted around the bar to make a run for the front door but Richie swung the coat rack out to catch her foot and make her fall full force to the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie’s laugh turned hostile as he thundered after her, a heavy foot placed to the small of her back to hold her down against the floor as she clawed at the floor to get away from him. “Where you think you goin’, Bev? You saw this, right? Saw every way all your silly little friends die.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dropping to the floor, Richie crouched over, the rack clattering to the floor as he grabbed her shoulder instead to roller her onto her back. He was quick to place his foot on her forearm to keep her from swiping those nasty little claws at him. Even trapped, Beverly still glared, lips pulled back in an ever defiant snarl, prepared to curse again but Richie grabbed her face, squeezing hard enough the bones cracked under the pressure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he spoke, his eyes shifted to their normal blue again. For all that seemed to be just the deadlights, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Richie</span>
  </em>
  <span> was still there. But it wasn’t her saving grace. Instead, it was just Richie’s voice now. Raw, pained, </span>
  <em>
    <span>angry</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Did you see Eddie die, Bev?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie! Richie, baby, please, it’s me, it’s me, you’re hurting me.” Bev tried to plead with him, her free hand grasping weakly at his wrist, nails digging into his skin, stripping away flesh. It didn’t change anything, only made Richie grip hard enough for something else in her jaw to crack. She howled, tears rolling from the corner of her eyes and into her auburn hair. “Richie…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Did you see Eddie die, Bev? Did you know what happens to him down there? Did you </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>know</em>
  </b>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sobbed whimper as she kept scratching at Richie’s arm, doing everything she could to get him off, but his grip was too strong, he didn't respond to the pain as any sane man would. With a snarl, Richie shook her head for her, dragging broken bones together to torture an answer out of her. Another pained cry split the air, muffled by Richie’s ever-tightening grip on her face, soul-baring blue eyes boring in hers. Demanding an answer. Finally, she breathed a quiet, “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t need the deadlights for this part. Richie wasn’t even completely possessed at this time, he had come to the surface long enough to search for a single fragment of a good fucking friend, and instead, he found another </span>
  <em>
    <span>liar</span>
  </em>
  <span> among them. Bev had known. Bev knew Eddie was going to die down there. And she was just going to let him walk in, no fucking warning, no fucking help. The muscles in his jaw visibly rippled in his anger as Richie processed what that single word meant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breaking her neck was quick and fucking easy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Heavy and aching from the tension of the last five minutes, Richie stood on weary legs. Staring down at Bev’s lifeless eyes as she stared across the floor at Ben’s bloody mess of a body. Huh. Richie looked between them, finding it fucking poetic. Maybe he should have been a real asshole and let one of them walk away from this. Let them feel how it fucking felt to find the love of your life and have that taken from you. With a scowl he stepped over Bev and to the door, sliding it shut behind him so when Eddie came down he wouldn’t have a fucking conniption. He wouldn’t understand, this was to save him. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eddie or the others and Eddie was too fucking sweet to make the choice himself. Richie handled it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Eddie did come back downstairs, Richie was just leaning against the door to the bar, focused on breathing, lost in the push and pull of air in his own lungs. Human. Still so startlingly human. Eldritch creatures had nothing on the cruelty of man. He lazily looked down at himself, surprised he didn’t get any blood on his shirt but supposed he hit Ben at just the right angle that any spray would have gone towards the wall and away from him. And Bev was clean. Richie almost regretted getting so caught up in his anger and taking that kill so much quicker. He should have drawn it out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, man, where’s everyone else?” Eddie chirped, looking towards the front door that still swung half-open from where Richie had barged in only a few minutes ago. Fuck, that somehow felt like an eternity ago. Two lives ago. Richie snorted a laugh to himself before Eddie’s hands were on his jaw and forcing his head the other way, better exposing the bite mark. “What the hell bit you, Rich? This looks bad- Is that </span>
  <em>
    <span>vodka?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Did you seriously try fucking cleaning it with booze, dude?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Closest thing on hand. Bev thought it was a good idea.” Richie said, astounded by how fucking even his voice was. How the hell was he so calm about this? What the fuck kind of psychopath murders two friends and can just carry on a normal conversation after?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>They weren’t your friends, Richie</em>
  </b>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right. Richie nodded blankly, agreeing with the voice in the back of the head that now seemed like it just fucking belonged there. The Deadlights were a part of him and that was… Comforting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you stop fucking moving?” Eddie snapped, dabbing a cotton ball soaked in what smelled like more alcohol- just not the fun kind. For all his newfound power and murderous intent, Richie stayed still, pliant under Eddie’s surprisingly soft hands. What the fuck, what forty-year-old man had hands that soft? “What? Was your token some used old condom or something? Did the bride of Dracula take a bite out of your neck while you were fucking a demon lady or-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>
    <em>Shut up,</em>
  </b>
  <span>” Richie warned, tension immediately returning to his shoulders, hand twitching at his side like he wanted to reach out and close his hand on Eddie’s throat, too. No… </span>
  <em>
    <span>What the fuck? </span>
  </em>
  <span>No, he didn’t want to do that. Luckily, he didn’t have to because Eddie immediately fell quiet as he pulled back from Richie’s acidity. But Richie didn’t like that either, so his hand snapped out to grip Eddie’s wrist. “Don’t… Don’t go, just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t have any words, he was confused, he wasn’t sure what was going on, or what he wanted. Not explicitly. He wanted-</span>
  <b>
    <em>to take, to choke, to mark, to claim</em>
  </b>
  <span>- Eddie, that much he knew. When Eddie pulled against Richie’s hand, Richie expected to let him go. Like, he saw Eddie struggling and he told himself he should let him go. He was scaring him, he was hurting him. Richie didn’t want to do that. He didn’t want to </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eddie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except he did. He wanted to hurt Eddie in all the right ways. He wanted to </span>
  <em>
    <span>make</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eddie see everything he just did for him. He turned on his own fucking friends for Eddie. Everything he fucking did was </span>
  <em>
    <span>for Eddie.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The least Eddie could do was be his. </span>
  <b>
    <em>Eddie belonged to him</em>
  </b>
  <span>. His mouth watered as his grip tightened hard enough on Eddie’s wrist he felt the bones strain under the pressure. Any more strength and it’d snap. So easy. Wrists were so fucking fragile. Eddie was so fragile, wasn’t he? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Let go, Rich</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he told himself again, and maybe Eddie said it, too, but he wasn’t looking at Eddie’s face, just his wrist in his hand. Thinking. Pondering it. It would only take…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snapped his wrist. A quick jerk and a sudden sharp </span>
  <em>
    <span>crack</span>
  </em>
  <span> and Eddie screamed so fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>beautifully</span>
  </em>
  <span> it had Richie’s eyes back on him. Trapped in his head, knowing he shouldn’t have fucking done that, </span>
  <em>
    <span>why the fuck did he do that</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Because Eddie talked back? Because Eddie was being rude to the man who just beat Ben to death and choked the life out of Beverly Marsh for daring to risk Eddie’s life. Eddie didn’t know any better, Eddie had to learn. Eddie had to be put in place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rich, what the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, dude! You just fucking--” Eddie slammed his free hand against Richie’s chest to try and get him to release the already broken wrist but Richie still held it tight in his hand, feeling the shattered bones shift against the pulse in his palm. Fuck, that was thrilling. A straight shot of power as Richie felt the damage he could do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All his fucking life, he had been weak. Scared, and hiding, and lashing out with crappy humor. Not anymore. Fuck that. He had the power now, he had the control, people were going to fucking see him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eddie</span>
  </em>
  <span> was going to see him. That whole time, Eddie didn’t stop whimpering, broken sobs leaving his shuddering chest as Richie continued to press on the pained nerves. Making sure Eddie felt it, relishing in the way Eddie screamed. Richie’s other hand shot out to catch Eddie by the face, holding his jaw in hand the same way he had held Bev’s, that same feeling of absolute control washing over him but this one had a deeper hunger. There wasn’t just power here, there was domination with Eddie. An underlying lust Richie had kept hidden for twenty-seven fucking years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>done</span>
  </em>
  <span> hiding.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he released Eddie’s wrist, who immediately pulled the broken appendage to his chest to cradle it in the most comfortable position, tear-stained eyes looking up at Richie in absolute shock and horror. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Betrayal</span>
  </em>
  <span>. When Richie met his gaze, Eddie wouldn’t find that sad blue-eyed boy from the Chinese restaurant. Now he found gleaming yellow eyes and a piercing, blood-chilling interest that had Eddie trying to pull his face free from Richie’s grasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rich… Richie, stop. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stop</span>
  </em>
  <span>, please, Rich, it’s me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” Richie rumbled, stepping forward and forcing Eddie to take a step back, the grip on his jaw threatening to dislocate it if Eddie misstepped and fell. “I know it’s you, Eds, that’s the only reason you’re alive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh-what? What the fuck does that mean, Rich?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Poor guy was too upset, he didn’t even correct him about the Eds bit. Richie just tsked and kept walking Eddie towards the stairs, knowing he’d have to just pick him up if he wanted to get to a bedroom. And he did, that was all Richie could focus on right now. Taking what was rightfully his, even more so now that he committed all these atrocities for </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eddie</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The least he could do was repay him with something Richie had wanted for so fucking long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rich, talk to me, you- you’re scaring me, man,” Eddie begged, his good hand coming up to touch Richie’s arm, to try and make skin contact like he was trying so desperately to pull Richie out of whatever fucking spell he was under. But Richie wasn’t under a spell. For the first time, Richie felt like he was finally thinking clearly. Like the world made sense. He knew what he wanted, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>deserved</span>
  </em>
  <span> what he wanted. So he was going to fucking take it and Eddie would thank him. Eddie wanted it, too, he had to. Otherwise, why was he still here trying to rationalize with Richie? He cared. He cared so fucking deeply. “Rich. Rich, please. Richie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want you,” Richie said flatly, yellowed eyes slipping back to the passive blue. Something more familiar, something Eddie could hopefully trust. As if to drive home the point, Richie’s grip on Eddie’s jaw eased, thumb tracing the sliver of Eddie’s bottom lip. “Fuck, Eds, all I fucking want is you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie was too stunned to take advantage of not being held hostage by Richie’s iron grip, his brown eyes widening even more as they stared up at Richie. It looked like he was going to play dumb, and Richie was ready to slap him for it, but instead, his lips parted under Richie’s thumb, tongue flicking out against his lips nervously. “Rich…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sick of waiting, Richie’s hand slid around to cup the back of Eddie’s face and haul him in to kiss him hard on those open lips, their tongues pressing together at long fucking last. Another dulcet sound of surprise from the back of Eddie’s throat, but he didn’t pull away, he didn’t push Richie back. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Holy fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he kissed him back. A hand curled into the front of Richie’s shirt, pulling them closer together as they sank deeper into that kiss. The kiss that should have happened thirty years ago but Richie was stupid. He was stupid and scared and slow, but he wasn’t going to miss his chance again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As quickly as the kiss began, it stopped, Eddie pulling back and resting the flat of his palm against Richie’s chest. “Wait… Wait, no, no, I need a fucking hospital, Rich, you broke my fucking wrist, that’s- that’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Where’s Ben and Bev? We have to meet Mike, we’re already so fucking late, we--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re still not fucking listening,” Richie growled out, pupils rimmed gold now as he struggled with the primal need to completely </span>
  <em>
    <span>devour</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eddie. “I want you, Eddie. Right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My- My </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrist,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richard.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you hadn’t been talking shit, I wouldn’t have broken it! Don’t talk shit about shit you don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fantastic fucking vocabulary, there-” Eddie was cut off as Richie raised his hand and he flinched away from it. Part of Richie screamed at the sight. Another part of him reveled in it. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Upstairs. Now.” Richie told him, voice low as he waited for Eddie to take the order. When Eddie opened his mouth to argue again, Richie just growled. “I don’t want to hear anything else. Get the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> upstairs, Eds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tension sat between them for a second. Then another. And then Eddie slowly backed towards the stairs. He hesitated like he was scared to turn his back on Richie, to leave himself any more vulnerable than he already was. But he was either smart, or the fear won out and he turned to mount the stairs as ordered. Richie followed, his blood roaring in his ears as he watched Eddie walk in front of him. They were going upstairs. To a bedroom. And Richie was going to do exactly what he wanted for so fucking long. His eyes watched the way Eddie’s ass tensed and moved with each step, that long-buried hunger roiling to the surface as his hands twitched at his sides again. He wanted to touch him. Fuck, he wanted his hands on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Usually, he’d shove his hands in his jacket pockets. He’d restrain himself and miss his chance and live in shame of wanting to touch another man. But now? Now he was free, and now he grabbed at Eddie’s ass as they reached the first landing, crowding him in against the corner to kiss the back of his neck. Eddie braced himself against the wall with his good hand, the injured one still tucked at an unnatural angle against his chest. But, God, the filthiest little moan left his lips as Richie grazed the sensitive skin of his neck with his teeth. He felt his pulse under his tongue, he knew he only had to bite harder and Eddie would bleed so sweetly all over the place. Again, his mouth watered at the idea, and he might have done it if Eddie didn’t shove Richie back using his own body. “Richie, </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” Richie snapped, but kept his distance. “Why the fuck are we still hiding, Eddie? Like, you just fucking kissed me, I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>telling </span>
  </em>
  <span>you I want you, what is the fucking problem?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The circumstances, Richie! We’re here to kill a fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>clown</span>
  </em>
  <span> that </span>
  <em>
    <span>eats people</span>
  </em>
  <span>! And you broke my fucking wrist! It </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurts</span>
  </em>
  <span> and I at least need a splint if we can’t go to the hospital right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my </span>
  <em>
    <span>God</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Eddie, it’s just a fucking wrist, it’s not like that’s even a hand you use, get the fuck over it, dude.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie stared at him like he was a fucking monster. And maybe he was now. Maybe who Richie used to be was gone, and all that was left was </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> version. The version that was going to protect Eddie and keep Eddie for himself. Richie stepped toward Eddie, but he quickly withdrew, curling away. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That… Oh, that pissed him off. Richie’s eyes shone yellow again as he took another step towards Eddie, towering over him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>looming</span>
  </em>
  <span> there. “Nothing is fucking wrong with me anymore, don’t you get it? I’m fucking sick of waiting, Eddie. I’m sick of the back and forth, I’m sick of getting all these fucking flashes of how much I fucking loved you and how scared I was to tell you. I’m tired of fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>waiting</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You. Owe. Me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stepping back, Eddie was still keeping his distance from Richie, those big brown eyes narrowing suddenly as his good hand reached out to hold the rail and guide himself up the stairs. “I don’t owe you a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing, Richie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Richie was going to fucking kill him</em>
  </b>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He followed him with a face like thunder, lips pressed into a silent snarl as he took two easy steps to Eddie. The smaller man didn't have a chance, trying to scramble up the stairs to get away but Richie grabbed his upper arm, hauling him up the stairs and into the nearest bedroom. With a hard shove, Eddie stumbled into the room, hand out to catch himself on the floor and hurry to his feet as Richie stepped into the room and slammed the door behind them. The room was dark save for the light of the streetlamps through the window and the glow of Richie's eyes. A chittering growl echoed through the room and Eddie looked around frantically, body curled in on itself to make himself seem small. To do his best to invite Richie's mercy when there was none. Silence followed the monstrous sound, suffocating them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"R-Richie…" Eddie's voice hiccuped, the air in his lungs strained under the oppressive anger radiating from the man he thought was his childhood friend. "Richie, you're scaring me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Everything fucking scares you, doesn't it?" Richie sneered and took a step closer to Eddie, the thud of his shoes making Eddie flinch but he didn't dare run away this time. "Why are you scared right now, Eddie? Because you don't want to be gay? You don't want to admit that there's something here? Don't want to admit that you fucking love me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A soft sob, Eddie's entire body trembling as Richie circled around him. That growl returned, seeming to come from every dark corner of the room, emanating from the shadows, crawling under Eddie's skin to turn to ice shards in his chest. "Richie, please-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you have any idea what I just did for you? Do you have a single fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>clue</span>
  </em>
  <span> to the shit I've seen today?" Richie hissed, breath hot on Eddie's neck, teeth sharp against his ear. Hands slid to Eddie's hips, pushing under the thin fabric of his shirt to grasp at sinfully soft flesh. "I watched you die, Eddie. It drove me fucking crazy to know what happened to you if we went down to those sewers again. I couldn't… I couldn't let it happen, I couldn't fucking lose you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Richie… Rich, </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop</span>
  </em>
  <span>, please." Now he whimpered, the sound sending a hot pike of pure lust straight to Richie's dick as he crowded closer, chest flush against Eddie's back. The bulge of his half-hard dick nestled perfectly against the swell of Eddie's ass, and if he moved at all, there was no way he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wouldn't </span>
  </em>
  <span>feel it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ignoring his pleas, Richie swept his hand completely up Eddie's shirt, laying an open palm against the spot the killing wound would be if Richie hadn't done what was necessary. His mouth pressed to the join of Eddie's neck and shoulder, breath hot against the skin as he murmured, "I killed them, Eddie."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Kil-killed who?" Eddie was tense, head tipped to the side as if wordlessly permitting Richie to keep his lips there. Intentional or not, Richie took it as consent. His mouth opened, teeth cutting into Eddie's flesh as Richie bit him, tongue tasting the beads of blood that gathered around his teeth. Fuck, every part of Eddie was </span>
  <em>
    <span>sweet</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Richie could fucking devour him entirely. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Richie!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With his hand already under Eddie’s shirt, Richie was able to lift his arms and pull the shirt up and off Eddie in one swift motion, not really being mindful of Eddie’s broken wrist, but rather doing his best to tweak it so he can Eddie cry out again. Chest bare, Eddie turned to look at Richie with those wide eyes again, hand out to keep Richie at a distance but it didn’t help. Pressing closer, Richie grabbed at Eddie’s hips, lifting him to carry him across the room and to the bed where he sat him down and kissed him fiercely. His tongue drew across Eddie’s trembling lips, the soft skin parting with a small gasp to allow Richie to explore deeper. Every time Eddie tried to speak, tried to argue or stop this, Richie would growl deep in his throat, teeth closing in a warning on Eddie’s lower lip until the words died in his throat, tapering off into quiet whimpers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Soon Richie turned attention to Eddie’s throat, teeth feeling sharp in his watering mouth at the idea of having Eddie bleed on his lips again. The stubble of Richie’s jaw scratched Eddie’s neck raw, and another quiet whine as Eddie tried to find words to argue what they were doing. Without warning this time, Richie bit him before he could properly form words, drawing hot blood against an already flushed neck. Eddie’s hips arched completely off the bed, grinding up and against Richie, and intense need shooting through Richie, spreading in the pit of his stomach until he could thrust his hips down and grind his barely concealed dick against Eddie’s waist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another soft gasp as Eddie looked down to see the bulge in Richie’s jeans, fear and wonder mixed in a beautiful amalgamation of desire. Pulling up to rest on his knees, Richie pulled his jacket and outer shirt off, dropping them to the ground as he lowered his arms to Eddie’s pants, working the open with shockingly steady hands. He deserved this. This, </span>
  <em>
    <span>all of Eddie</span>
  </em>
  <span> was his for the taking. “I’m going to fuck you, Eddie,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rich-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Richie warned, getting the button open and the zipper down, pulling the cloth down along with Eddie’s boxers, too. “Lift your fucking hips up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie obeyed, shivering as the chill of the room kissed newly bared skin. The way he kept his hand curled against his chest made him look like a blushing fucking virgin, nervous for his first time as he stared up at Richie, neck bleeding in the two places Richie had already bitten him. Needing direction, needing to be cared for, and shown how good it could feel. If Richie was in his right mind, he would have. This whole night would have been so fucking different if Richie was in his right mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Eddie would be dead</em>
  </b>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The deadlights didn’t relinquish their hold on Richie, they couldn’t when they were so close. Yellow eyes gleaming, Richie remained mostly clothed as he unceremoniously licked his fingers and pressed them between Eddie’s legs. He spread the spit against Eddie’s thighs, growling dangerously as Eddie tried to pull his knees together, free hand out to grab Eddie’s thigh and force his leg back to the bed to open him up better. “Come on, Eds. It’s me. Spread yourself wide open for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whimpering, Eddie shook his head, body tense under Richie’s exploration. But before he could speak, Richie found what he wanted, and didn’t wait to press two fingers into Eddie. His hips raised off the bed, trying to get away from the intrusion but Richie slid his hand to Eddie’s hips, gripping harshly and forcing him back onto the bed, forcing him to sink onto thick fingers. The sound it elicited from Eddie’s chest was absolutely sinful, his head falling back on the bed as he panted harshly. Adjusting to the feeling. Relishing in it even if he didn’t want to. With a smirk, Richie crooked his fingers and dragged the pads along Eddie’s wall, the smaller man writhing under him. It was simultaneously too much and too little, Eddie struggling to understand what he was supposed to feel. Where the full sensation felt nice, Richie’s fingers caught and pulled unpleasantly and Eddie shifted, a cry hiccuped in his throat. “I-It hurts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s supposed to,” Richie said huskily, shifting lower on the bed so he could crouch between Eddie’s leg and spit directly where his fingers were stretching Eddie’s ass wide. He fucked his fingers into him, spreading his spit to try and make it easier. It wasn’t a matter of being nice, it was a matter of doing the bare minimum to get his dick inside of Eddie. “You need to fucking relax, or it’ll hurt more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S-Sorry,” Eddie whined, and despite the shaking in his limbs, he tried. He forced himself to breathe and to relax around Richie’s fingers enough that they moved with a little less force now. At least until a third finger was added, and Richie needed to spit again. Once, twice, the glob of saliva spread over the puckered skin as Richie pulled his fingers nearly out and then slammed them in again, forcing a loud shout from Eddie’s lungs. “Richie!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was enough of that. Richie pulled himself up, fingers leaving Eddie’s hole to work open his jeans for the second time that day and free his achingly hard cock. Eddie breathed a sigh of relief that only lasted for a moment as his eyes followed Richie’s movement, then he whimpered again, shaking his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Richie- Richie, no, please, no, it-- I’m not ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>
    <em>Shut the fuck up</em>
  </b>
  <span>.” Richie snarled, hand slapped over Eddie’s mouth with one hand while the other roughly palmed his own dick. His knees pressed to Eddie’s thighs, spreading them wider so he could drag his dick along the cleft of Eddie’s ass, groaning as it caught and he popped the head in. Fuck, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Eddie was tight. Maybe too tight. There was no way he wasn’t going to hurt Eddie doing this, no matter how fucking slow he went. His fingers curled, pressing harshly against Eddie’s cheek as he ground his teeth together and jerked his hips forward to force himself in, splitting Eddie open on his dick. Eddie howled against Richie’s hand, the tension in his body threatening to buck his hips away, but Richie growled that sound that echoed through the many shadows of the room. “Move your fucking hips away and I’ll break those, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eddie stilled immediately, eyes closed tights as tears rolled back into his hair as Richie continued to force himself inside. The cries against Richie’s hand quieted to broken sobs as each shallow thrust let Richie in deeper and deeper until he was pressed flush against Eddie, bottomed out completely inside of him. Back arched off the bed, Eddie panted, body trying to adjust to the size and length of Richie. Before he could accommodate the intrusion, Richie was pulling back, a shaking groan muffled against his hand before he shot forward and slammed into Eddie again, forcing him open. Forcing him to take him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I killed them for you, Eddie.” Richie moaned, finding a slow, jolting rhythm as he fucked Eddie. At long fucking last, he and Eddie were together the way they always should have been. “They were going to let you die down there, I wasn’t going to let them do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly the cries stopped, and moans began to rumble in the back of Eddie’s throat. Richie pulled his hand away, spilling Eddie’s sounds of pleasure-laced pain into the room, punctuated by the sharp notes of their bodies slamming together. Richie kissed him again, tasting those sinfully angelic sounds that he had dreamed of for fucking years. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Decades</span>
  </em>
  <span>. A hand cupped the side of Eddie’s face, the other supporting himself as he continued his almost punishing rhythm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me you love me, Eddie.” Richie breathed, nose brushing the shell of Eddie’s ear. “I love you, Eddie, I’ve always fucking loved you. Tell me you love me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I... “ Eddie’s voice was lost in the force of which he shivered under Richie’s attack, hands tucked to his chest to keep broken bones from shifting with each thrust. But even in all the chaos, in the swirl of pain and pops of pleasure, he looked up at Richie like they were kids again. Like they were seeing each other for the first time. When he finally could speak, his voice was barely a whisper, hoarse from his screaming, shaking. “I do, Richie, I love you. It’s always been you...”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Holy shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Richie leaned in close, hand sliding to curl around Eddie’s throat as he kissed him hard on the mouth, hips moving agonizingly slow now, relishing the drag of his cock in and out of Eddie’s ass. Richie wanted to keep those words in Eddie’s lungs, he wanted that to be the - </span>
  <b>
    <em>last thing</em>
  </b>
  <span>- only thing Eddie ever said again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you, it’s always been you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He nearly pulled out completely, moans tangled together in a messy kiss before he suddenly slammed into Eddie, the hand on his windpipe tightening. Overcome in the moment, Richie barely notices Eddie’s hand on his wrist, nails digging in to try and drag the suffocating hand off his neck. All that mattered, all that registered was the fact he was inside Eddie; Eddie was under him, Eddie told him he </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved</span>
  </em>
  <span> him. Eddie was his. Eddie belonged to him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eddie, Eddie, </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Eddie</em>
  </b>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so fucking close, Eds.” Richie groaned, hand moving from Eddie’s windpipe to slam against the bed so he could better anchor himself as he began to fuck Eddie with feral, animalistic thrusts. Brutal in pace and unforgiving in force, Richie took him, the drag of Eddie’s still tight hole along the shaft of his dick making him light-headed. Fuck, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Richie hadn’t had any sex better than this. Nothing would get better than this, than having Eddie under him. He wanted this moment for the rest of his life, seared in his mind like a brand that would ache and itch forever. Eddie did that to him. For twenty-seven years, Eddie was that impulse in the back of Richie’s mind, festering until now, until every dark desire could pour out of him in one hard rush of absolute lust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lowering himself, Richie shoved his hands under Eddie, pulling them together as he fucked into him for several more thrusts. He came with his teeth leaving another savage bite in Eddie’s skin, spilling into him like he belonged there, like Eddie wasn’t complete without Richie inside of him. The world spun with the force of his climax and Richie’s breath was ragged and uncoordinated, holding Eddie like he was the only thing keeping him grounded in this blood and come soaked moment. His limbs felt weak, shivers ripping through his body as the weight of </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> he just did came crashing over him. Like the heightened emotion of the moment was enough to throw the deadlights off of him…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or they released him so Richie could see the damage he had done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hit him like a </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> truck, all at once. Leaving Mike, Ben, Bev, Eddie’s wrist, what he </span>
  <em>
    <span>just did</span>
  </em>
  <span> to Eddie. Of, God, Eddie. Only now did Richie realize Eddie had been unbearably silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie,” Richie whispered, pulling back quickly and scrambling for a light. The room suddenly seemed darker, the orange glow from the streetlight outside his window not enough to illuminate the carnage Richie’s possessed state had sowed on the smaller man. “Eddie, I’m sorry, fuck, Eddie, I’m so sorry, it’s going to be okay, alright? I promise it’s going to be okay, just wait, baby, just hang on, I’m getting the light now…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Richie knew it was bad. He knew but he didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to know. The silence that sat, heavy and suffocating, in the room, told him Eddie wasn’t okay and even if he turned the light on, it wouldn’t change anything. Shaking, Richie could barely flip the switch on the wall. He pressed his forehead to the shitty wallpaper, hands splayed shoulder height as another shiver racked his body, this time punctuated with a horrified sob. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Turn around</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the voice taunted him in the back of his mind, and Richie shook his head, eyes screwed shut. He didn’t want to. God, he didn’t want to face the harsh reality. The consequences of his deal with the devil.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eddie… Baby, say something, please.” Richie begged, hoping he’d hear a croak, a whisper, a fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>breath, </span>
  </em>
  <span>anything, so he could have the courage to turn around. But he was only met with silence. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Eddie…</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was worse. This was so much fucking worse, what the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> was wrong with him that he let this happen? Richie swallowed hard, forcing himself to turn around, forcing himself to look at the lifeless body laying on the bed, blood still dripping from his neck even as vacant eyes stared, unseeing, at the ceiling. Any power he might have felt only an hour ago was gone as Richie crossed that room and collapsed against the bed, feeling so weak as he shakily reached for Eddie, as he gathered him into his arms and held him sweetly in his lap the way he should have. This wasn’t supposed to fucking happen, how could he have let this happen? He was protecting Eddie. All he ever wanted to do was protect Eddie. Everything he did that night was to save Eddie.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And none of it fucking mattered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was too greedy, he wanted too much and he lost himself in the haze, trapped in his mind as his body had moved on the darkest feelings and urges he ever felt. Richie couldn’t blame anything else, everything he did to Eddie had been his own thought, just twisted and made real by the demon that possessed him. The deadlights didn’t make Richie do anything he didn’t secretly want to do, they didn’t have that kind of power, did they? If they did, Richie didn’t know better, and he just rocked Eddie’s body, sobs rocking through his chest, tears falling down his face to land like rain on Eddie’s cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Eddie… I didn’t- I never wanted this, I didn’t… Eddie, please.” But no amount of begging or apologizing brought Eddie back. He was gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>And it’s your fault. </em>
  </b>
  <span>The voice from the shadows of Richie’s mind cackled, triumphant in their goal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“R-R-Ri-Richie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned his head, gasping sharply as he heard a voice he didn’t fucking expect. Bill looked like shit. Covered in dirt and grime and drying gray water, drenched in blood that didn’t seem to be his. Standing in the door, one hand grasping an iron fence post, watching Richie with the same venom they all regarded Pennywise. With Eddie still pressed tightly to his chest like he was protecting him from any other danger despite it being too little too late, Richie shifted to the other side of the bed, away from Bill. Away from that </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Away from the reality that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> the monster in all of this. “I didn’t… It was an accident, Bill, I didn’t… I’m sorry, I wasn’t… We gotta get him to a hospital, Bill, his… His wrist is…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Richie could finish a single thought he was breaking down, sobbing as his whole body curled around Eddie, trying to protect him because that was the reason for all of this, wasn’t it? To protect Eddie. Bill stepped further into the room, free hand out as if to comfort Richie but he kept the iron pike at the ready in the other. “I-I-I-It’s ok-kuh-kuh-kay, Rich. L-let me see h-h-him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>
    <em>No,</em>
  </b>
  <span>” Richie growled, lips pulled back in a snarl as his eyes flashed yellow and he drew further into the room to get away from Bill. “</span>
  <b>
    <em>He’s mine, you can’t fucking have him</em>
  </b>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rich,” Bill said, still coming closer, but this time he turned so the fence pike was closer than the outreached hand. Blue eyes looked at behind coke bottle glasses and Richie mirrored Bill’s every step, keeping space between them. “Rich, he’s g-guh-gone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another sob seized Richie’s chest as he looked down at the dead and broken man in his arms. Eds, </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> Eds. Swallowing, Richie looked up as another stream of tears rolled down his cheeks. “I didn’t… Bill, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry… </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love him, Bill.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was nowhere else for Richie to go, pressed back against the corner of the room like he had been earlier. Only this time his assailant wasn’t the evil that terrorized their hometown. It was Richie. Bill had to kill Richie. Stuttering Bill’s expression was pained but resolute. Knowing what had to be done but already at peace with his decision. “I know, Rich.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bill, please… Please, I’m sorry.” Richie whispered, fingers curling into the flesh of Eddie’s arm as he held him closer. Just holding the lifeless body of his best friend, of the love of his life as he stared his mortality down. Shuddering a breath in, Richie tried to steady himself, to accept his fate. He deserved this, he didn’t even want to fucking live, not with what he had done, not when he was supposed to live with Eddie. Without Eddie, there was no life. So when he asked again, it wasn’t for mercy. It was a request. “Please, Bill…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, Bill held the iron pike over his head, prepared to make the kill but Richie’s eyes changed again, and his lips pulled up in an unnatural grin, teeth sharp and monstrous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <b>
    <em>It’s all your fault, Billy.</em>
  </b>
  <span>” The voice coming from his best friend's throat wasn’t Richie’s. It was Pennywise, like that was all that was left. “</span>
  <b>
    <em>You couldn’t save Georgie, you couldn’t save your friends. You should have taken the deal, Bill. Your friends would still be alive.</em>
  </b>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cackle flooded the room, coming from every corner, shattering the mirrors and the windows. But Bill didn’t flinch, lips spread thin as he drove the spike down towards Richie’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the last thing Richie saw when the deadlights finally released him.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm honestly impressed you got all the way to the end. Well done, my dude.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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